


Let Me Paint Your Skin In Colors Of Everything

by obitoforpresident (Bibixblocksberg)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Soulmates, Weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26050660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibixblocksberg/pseuds/obitoforpresident
Summary: In which you find your soulmate if one of you offers the other something.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	Let Me Paint Your Skin In Colors Of Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I made myself cry. _But only a little bit._

( Day 1 ) It was a rainy day in Konoha. The sky was a deep grey, and the clouds – some of them nearly black and impenetrable – were hanging so low that Obito thought he could touch them if he would just reach out with his hand.

He stopped a few times on his way to the station, laying his head in his neck and closing his eyes, to feel the wetness on his face. Raindrops were kissing every inch of skin they could find. They were slowly sliding down the column of his throat and he asked himself if that’s what it felt like to be touched by a lover.

Would the fingers of a lover be as cool as the trickle of water when they were brushing over his overheated skin? Would they explore each little bump and scar which were painting his body in different colors, like the drops were doing it now?

A sigh left his lips, raindrops littering his cheeks with gentle kisses before he moved on again.

Was someone out there who would love an uneven canvas? Or would the raindrops falling from the sky be the only ones who ever dared touching the broken pieces of his soul?

Obito reached the platform in the same moment as the train, which would bring him to Konoha’s city center, was coming to a stop. The mass of people was dragging him like an ocean wave, and he was riding with it, enduring unwanted touches and being jostled around.

The air in the too small wagon was moist, laying itself on his skin like a rotten blanket and he missed his lover’s cool touch. Obito didn’t like the stuffy warmth, it made his skin itch in the most unpleasant way and he wanted to clean himself immediately. He wanted to rub his skin raw until it bleed just to feel anything other than moist air on his scarred canvas of a body.

He pulled down the sleeves of his sweater, his hands burying themselves in the soft black fabric and he was glad that he had pulled up his hood before going out. He hadn’t done it because of the rain, he liked rain. He’d done it because of this –

Moist air in a too small space, sweaty people clinging to their facades of a life, the only loving touches they received coming from their cellphones. He doesn’t want them to see – not today – how he differed from them, how he couldn’t endure to be near to them. He wasn’t in the mood for sneering looks.

Obito squirmed his way through faceless beings surrounding him, relief flooding every cell of his body as he saw an empty seat right next to a window. He didn’t say sorry as he bumped into someone’s knees. His legs were lanky and long, he couldn’t be held responsible for something he had no say in.

His eyes found their way out of the window, his heart beating faster as he saw the blurs of grey again. He counted the drops sliding down the glass, wondering if they realized that if the window came to an end, they would become one.

Was that what would happen to him and a partner if they would die? Would they be inseparable even in death? It was a nice thought, to not be alone in the endless depth of nothingness.

A pale finger was appearing on the window, tracing the drops sliding down. Obito couldn’t look away, even if he tried. He stared at moon-kissed skin, immediately dreaming of painting it in colors of red, blue and green.

Was this finger as cool as the raindrops tracing his skin? Would it caress the column of his throat in the same way?

He noticed a little scar, nearly directly under the knuckle. How did it get there? It was beautiful, slightly crooked and rosy, telling him that it didn’t exist on the canvas for long. The finger was still brushing over the cool glass, Obito’s breath hitching in his throat as it pushed the tiniest bit against it and the tip of the finger was becoming even paler.

He still wouldn’t dare look up. He was satisfied with looking at this tiny piece of the canvas, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face the whole beautiful artwork which the person across from him surely would be.  
  
  
( Day 2 ) It wasn’t raining today. The sun was an orange glow on the rapidly darkening sky, as it sank behind the horizon and it was another picture Obito wanted to imprint in his mind. He couldn’t touch the clouds today and the gentle caress of his rainy lover was nothing more than a memory now, but –

The dry warmth of the sun hugging his body wasn’t any less enjoyable.

The air in the train wasn’t the moist blanket from yesterday. It was more like something fuzzy that you wanted to press your face in. Like something you want to hold tightly to your chest so it wouldn’t ever leave you alone.

Obito’s skin was prickling pleasantly, softly burning and yearning to be touched by his new lover again.

There wasn’t a hood hiding his face from the world today. He felt good and he was dancing on his way from the little supermarket he worked in, to the station. His lips were stretched into a bright smile, and he could feel the slight hurt in the muscles of his face.

The smile graced his lips the whole day. He couldn’t change it, wouldn’t dare try, because what if he wouldn’t have a reason to smile ever again? It was a risk Obito wasn’t ready to take.

Again, he was sitting beside one of the big train windows, his eyes glued to the blurs of orange, yellow and red which were painting the city before him. One of his hands was pressed against the heated glass as if he wanted to touch the sun, as if he wanted to burn himself.

He would wear a smile when he burst into flames.

A tiny movement next to him stirred his eyes away from the breathtaking picture outside. A finger was taking his attention, tapping a rhythm on a jeans-clad thigh, a rosy scar directly under the knuckle. Obito’s breath left his lungs in a rush, his stomach fluttered, and it was –

It was that finger again.

Moon-kissed skin begging to be colored and Obito’s eyes roamed over the hand now, allowing himself a taste of more, and he drank in every little creek and bump he could see. Oh, how he wanted to touch.

He wanted to trace the veins on the back of the hand, wanted to brush his fingers over the rosy scar. He wanted to dig his fingers into the palm of the hand, and maybe, he wanted to watch the hand do something – anything, really.

Obito just had to know how the skin would feel under his own fingertips. Would it be rough and calloused? Would a brush of that skin burn on his body like the rays of the sun? Or was it as smooth as it looked, gliding over his skin like cool raindrops falling from the sky?

His fingers twitched, and Obito stopped his movements at the last moment. His hand hovered a few inches over the other’s and he couldn’t breathe. The tapping stopped, moon-kissed fingers were digging into a thigh for a moment before the hand turned around and Obito could feel the heat radiating from it.

Fingertips were nearly brushing against the skin of his own hand and his heart skipped a few beats.

There was the slightest hint of a touch, the pad of a finger gently brushing against Obito’s palm. He would have missed it if he hadn’t paid enough attention, if his entire being weren’t focused on the hand which was nearly touching his.

The hint of a touch was smooth, but it burned like the summer sun.  
  
  
( Day 3 ) The hand was there again. Laying innocently in its spot on a muscled thigh – Obito couldn’t not see it with the way black jeans were clinging to it – and he had the feeling that it was mocking him. That it dared him to touch just for a short fraction of time.

His own fingers were gripping the hem of his shirt with force, nearly tearing the fabric in tiny little pieces. The hand moved, going up – up – up and then it was laying there again. But the hand wasn’t alone anymore. There was a slender wrist, more pale skin to be looked at and Obito couldn’t stop his own hand from reaching out.

His fingers were curling around the wrist softly, his own slightly tanned skin a beautiful contrast to the pale canvas of the unknown man and –

The wrist twitched, shook as if in fear and only then did Obito realize what he was doing. Immediately he loosened his embrace, his hand going back to the hem of his shirt and with a burning face he turned back to the window on his left.

It was already dark outside, the sun already vanished from the sky, and his eyes were roaming over the blinding lights of the city. It wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the hand.

Oh, how Obito wanted to touch again. The skin around the wrist felt smooth, it reminded him of the cool satin sheets Rin liked and he yearned to touch. He had felt the other’s heartbeat under his fingertips and Obito wanted to count.

He wanted to count every beat, wanted to remind himself that everything around him was alive and – 

A tiny part of him wanted to feel alive, too. If only for a little moment in time. 

The hand appeared directly in front of his face and he needed a moment to understand that those slender fingers were offering him one half of earphones. Obito didn’t waist a second before he stretched his own hand out for it, and his breath hitched as their fingertips met.

Colorful sparks were illuminating the air around them, stealing the air right out of Obito’s lungs. 

A tingling feeling was spreading through every cell of his body, the dark sky outside nothing more than a picture of faded feelings Obito would treasure forever, but this – right here – was what held his attention.  
  
  
( Day 128 ) Moonlight was spilling over the sheets, basking the little bed and its occupants in soft light. Obito was sitting cross-legged, his fingertips painting a smooth canvas in colors of red, blue and green. 

A giggle was heard, filling Obito’s mind and soul with warmth and affection. 

He put down his watercolors on the floor beside the bed, his gaze never leaving the canvas before him. God, but he loved him. He loved his cool as raindrops skin, his hot as the summer sun touch, his cool as kisses of snow toes and his howling, stormy mind. 

He lay down beside his favorite piece of art, his fingers ghosting over kiss-swollen lips and Obito smiled. 

He never felt more alive as in these moments where he laid beside his _soulmate_. 

His soulmate who was like all the forces of nature combined, who brought a smile on his uneven lips and who softly kissed his scars and bumps at night. His soulmate who never stopped adoring him and who gave him back his will to live. 

Obito was still staring outside the window in the train, fascinated with the different colors which painted the city below and annoyed at the puppets around him. But now, there was a hand in his, grounding him and reminding him that he wasn’t alone anymore. 

Kakashi and him were two raindrops sliding down the glass and becoming one in the end.


End file.
